Make friends over mudbugs with Sunday Funday Crawfish Crewe

Angela Dodson - center - and the Sunday Funday Crawfish Crewe dine at Major League Grill's all you can eat crawfish boil. Beth Rankin/cat5

Looking at her small frame and delicate, Marilyn-esque features, it’s hard to imagine Angela Dodson throwing down on 10 pounds of crawfish.

But once she busts out the plastic container of her homemade sauce — Bud Light Lime, real butter, Tabasco and cayenne pepper, amongst other ingredients — it’s clear that she’s serious about eating crawfish.

Oh, and the group of more than a dozen people surrounding her is a good indicator, too. Dodson’s love of crawfish and beer runs so deep, she started a club that packs dozens of people — friends, strangers and out-of-towners — into local establishments to meet, greet and eat.

The idea for the Sunday Funday Crawfish Crewe came to her last year as she and friends were on an all-you-can-eat crawfish binge at Starvin Marvin’s.

“We were just eating crawfish and I thought, hey, we should start a group and drink beer,” Dodson said. “I had never met half these people before. It just keeps getting bigger.”

Fast forward to this season and upwards of two dozen people pack local bars and restaurants weekly to sample each joint’s bugs.

Like Teresa Martin, who packs her own sauce, too. It’s a family recipe that includes mayonnaise, ketchup, Worcestershire sauce, lemon and Slap Ya Mama seasoning. She’s almost sweet and dainty as she pinches and peels, a glittering gold watch dangling from her small wrist.

“A real crawfish crewe member doesn’t wear heavy jewelry,” she said. “All I wear is my watch so I know when to go home.”

And they don’t go home until they’ve had enough to eat — which has proven tricky at times.

“If you can get the all you can eat deal that’s the best, if you can actually get the crawfish,” Dodson said.

Problem is, each year the crawfish bug seems to bite even more folks than the last, forcing restaurants into a tricky position when patrons eat all they can and the bugs run out early.

The crewe dines at Major League Grill's all you can eat crawfish boil. Beth Rankin/cat5

Crawfish enthusiasts do not enjoy being sent home with a half-full belly, but even when places like Starvin Marvin’s orders 5,000 pounds for a weekly boil — or crawfish-only eatery JuJu’s Cajun Crawfish Shak trucks in two shipments with more than 1,000 pounds daily — restaurants inevitably run out sometimes.

The Pace Setter Lounge’s first Thursday boil this season sold out in over an hour.

“For us, price dictates where we go,” said Charlene Trahan, a Lumberton resident who drives into Beaumont to chow down with the Sunday Funday crew. “I can eat $60 worth of crawfish at a time so we go for all you can eat.”

Trahan packs her own Tony Chachere’s seasoning and has even used it to make Chinese buffet crawfish palatable.

“I out-eat my husband,” she said of her 10-pounds-in-a-go crawfish habit.

But not many people out-eat Angela.

“She’s like the crawfish queen of Jefferson County,” said crawfish crewe member JamesGrant. “She eats more than anyone.”

And her first goal as reigning queen? Spreading the crawfish and beer gospel. She had a logo created for the group and hopes to see the crewe in a Mardi Gras parade sometime in the future. But for now, she’ll settle for a few more fresh faces at her weekly meet-ups.

Carlos Cegelski, a 28-year-old construction worker from Baytown, has driven into

Beaumont twice just to get his mudbug fix with the crewe.

“We’re that desperate,” he said, adding that he has a hard time finding decent crawfish in Baytown.

He drinks an imperial stout “so I’ll get a little buzz on before I start eating crawfish,” he said. But the mudbugs aren’t the only reason people keep showing up to dine with the Sunday Funday gang.

Kelly Dawls, a physician’s assistant in Lumberton, moved from Arizona a while back and said the group helps her meet like-minded locals.

“When you’re new somewhere you’re either gonna meet people at work or bars so this is a nice way to meet people,” she said. “You can’t eat crawfish fast so it’s like the perfect social food.”

Though it sometimes gets quiet when the trays of crawfish hit the table, the group is jovial, festive and friendly to anyone who agrees with its mission.

“It’s the camaraderie of the same interest and meeting new people,” Trahan said. “That’s what this is for: Visiting and talking and peeling and eating.”

Just down the table, Dodson is quiet as her manicured fingers rip into a few tails. The kitchen at Major League Grill is running out of crawfish early, but Dodson hasn’t lost hope.